Fateful Encounter

by June Francis

  He laughed, and slapped her bottom as she moved away. One of the others called something, and she caught Niall’s name. She was half-way to the door, Niall’s trews and a tunic over her arm, when the little man got to his feet and followed her. She quickly swallowed a groan and left the door open.

  The rain had stopped, but it was still a grey evening, although there were several hours of daylight left. She had to get rid of the man. She came to the store-hut and swiftly filled the jug with whiskey. The man smiled at her, as sweetly as one of the cherubs painted on the church wall at home in England, indicating that he would carry the pitcher for her. She had no intention of hurting him.

  It was a hen that saved her a lot of bother. One suddenly seemed to lose its way as it scattered with the others out of their path, and the little man’s legs buckled as he fell over it. But in the end it was his reluctance to let go of the pitcher that proved his downfall. Still holding the vessel aloft, his head hit the side of the house and he slumped, stunned, to the ground.

  Constance did not linger to see what might happen next, but ran round the house to the stable. Her search for a bridle was frantic, as was her hunt for one of Niall’s caps. She found one perched on a hook, and swiftly changed her clothes. Fortunately, because of the weather, there were few people about. She spared a second’s thought for her manor. With luck, it would remain dry after this for a while, so that the hay could be cut. She climbed on to Maeve, and headed across the field.

  The sun was having an unexpected final burst of glory before sliding into darkness as Constance came to Naas. As she entered, she could not help recalling how she had met Brandon here and thought him her saviour. How wrong she had been, where he was concerned! Perhaps he was still alive, and maybe in England by now? She decided to seek lodgings at the inn where she had stabled her horse last time. To her surprise, Pat, the ostler was there. Forgetting her disguise, she waited for him to recognise her, but he was aware of her horse first.

  ‘Now where have you got this beauty from, lad?’ he demanded, eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Last I remember seeing her, she was in company with a friend of mine.’

  ‘A horse-thief, you mean,’ she said. ‘Master Niall O’More! And if you are a friend of his, Pat, you would help me.’ She pulled off her cap. ‘He has gone to Dublin, and I need to find him.’

  His eyes widened. ‘You’re Mistress de Wensley! There’s a man here — Master Upton — who is looking for you.’

  ‘Master Upton!’ Her voice rose with gladness. ‘He is just the person I need to escort me!’ Even as she spoke, the shutter overhead flew open and a head appeared in the opening.

  ‘Did someone mention my name?’

  ‘I did, Master Upton. Come down, I must speak with you.’

  ‘Mistress de Wensley?’ His eyes seemed to start out of his head as he gazed down into her upturned face. ‘By all that’s holy! I’ll be down right away.’

  He was as good as his word, and within minutes he lumbered into the stable where the ostler was making Maeve comfortable. He eyed Constance speculatively. ‘Did you have to escape the rascally O’Tooles dressed like that? What’s Master Niall thinking of, leaving you to go to Connemara?’

  ‘Mind what you’re saying, man,’ said the ostler indignantly, ‘or you’ll be gettin’ a biff on the snout!’

  ‘Hush, Pat!’ Constance pressed his arm. ‘Have you seen Kathleen and my kinsman, Master Upton?’

  ‘That I have. On a ship Liverpool-bound he is, with the young wench.’ He scowled at Pat.

  ‘He has departed already?’

  He nodded. ‘Thought he should.’ He rubbed the back of his hand across his chins. ‘I have bad news for you, mistress.’

  ‘Bad news?’ A muscle tightened in her throat. ‘Is it Master Niall?’ she said huskily.

  ‘Indeed it isn’t; I haven’t seen a sign of him! No, ’tis your father. He’s been imprisoned on a charge of heresy, and your stepmother fears for his safety. She wants you to go home to be with her.’

  ‘Oh no!’ The stable seemed to swim round her, and she swayed. Pat caught hold of her as Master Upton put out a hand.

  ‘You shouldn’t have told the lady the news like that, man,’ scolded Pat, easing Constance on to a pile of straw.

  ‘There’s no easy way of telling bad news,’ Master Upton grunted, slowly getting down on one knee and taking her hand in his chubby one. He patted it gently.

  Constance took a deep shaky breath. ‘Oh, what am I to do?’

  ‘There’s only one thing for you to do,’ said Master Upton, ‘and that’s to return to England. Your family have need of you.’

  ‘But — But you don’t understand!’ She tried to sit up, but her head spun, and she desisted. Pat put his arm round her and eased her against his knee so that she was in a sitting position. She thanked him, before addressing Master Upton again. ‘You don’t understand,’ she repeated. ‘Niall’s life is in danger, too! And I am married to him.’

  ‘Married!’ Pat and Master Upton exchanged looks.

  She nodded. ‘He has gone to Dublin in search of Robin — but I fear that when he finds he has gone, he will do something foolish such as going to Trim and attempting a rescue.’

  ‘It’s Dermot O’Toole he wants to set free?’ muttered Master Upton, rubbing his chin.

  ‘Of course it is,’ said Pat. ‘And once Niall’s mind’s set on a path, there’ll be no changing it.’

  ‘That is what I believe,’ cried Constance, starting up. ‘He’ll do something foolish if I’m not there to prevent it. But it could be that he hasn’t left for Trim. He would have to work out some plan, and he surely won’t have done that already.’

  The two men made no answer, but she could guess what they were thinking — that she clutched at straws. But what else was there for her to do but hope, and pray that they were wrong and she was not? In the morning she would go with Master Upton to Dublin, and one way or another she would find Niall and tell him of her plan.

  *

  Constance was very much aware of how much Dublin had sprawled beyond its city walls. If Niall was still there, it would not be an easy task to find him. They had come to another of the guarded gateways, which went some way to recognising the need for defence. Beggars huddled there, just as they had at the other gates. She tossed several small coins, and caused a scramble. Then they were through, and heading towards the city and its main gate.

  She could see the castle, its massive bulk forming the cornerstone of the city walls pierced with gates and towers. When they were almost there, they came to an enormous ditch that reeked of rotting offal and vegetation. She wondered how the beggars clustering about the main gate could bear the stench.

  ‘Master Upton,’ she murmured, ‘could you give me a couple of coins?’

  He grunted, but gave her more than she asked. She was aware of eyes watching them, and was glad of the guards at the gate. As they passed through the gateway, she saw a shambling figure detach itself from the group scrambling for the money, to follow them into the city.

  Master Upton had decided that they should first go to her father’s agent’s house, where he was certain she would be welcome. She had managed to buy a gown from Pat’s wife, and for that she was glad, having no desire to arrive at the Larchers’ house in Niall’s clothes. It was well on in the evening, but despite that, the narrow streets were bustling with people.

  She looked about her as they travelled the High Street past Christ Church Cathedral. She had visited it when she had come here in Robin’s company, and had seen the tomb of Strongbow, the first Norman invader, who had come from Wales by order of Henry II. Perhaps there would be opportunity to pray there in the morning, if she rose early. She was relieved when they came to the house not far from the city wall.

  They were made welcome, and it was not too long before she was ushered into a bedchamber overlooking a walled garden, which she was to share with their host’s three daughters. They would have chattered half the night, but she was much to
o tired, and soon she was asleep.

  Constance rose early, woken by the sound of activity below and the sun filtering through the horn window. She presumed it was Mistress Larcher, and that soon she would be calling her daughters. Not wishing to be questioned any more about her affairs Constance got up quickly.

  Mistress Larcher seemed to understand her desire to go alone to pray in the cathedral, and as there was no sign of Master Larcher or Upton, she left the house without hindrance to make her way to the cathedral. Her heart was only a little lighter when she emerged. The two men she loved were in danger of their lives, and she could only see vaguely a way to help one of them out of his difficulties.

  She had not walked far when she heard footsteps behind her. Not an uncommon sound at that time of morning, but there was a beat in their pacing that she recognised. She whirled round just as a hand seized her arm. Niall swore fluently as he looked down at her.

  For a few seconds, Constance barely recognised him. Gone was the moustache, and his shoulder-length hair had been bobbed neatly to just below his ears. It gleamed dull gold in the morning sun. He no longer wore trews and a tunic, but some kind of livery of red and gold. She quickly blinked back the tears of relief that pricked her eyes. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’ she asked huskily. ‘I feared you might be already captured or even dead!’

  He stared at her, a sudden awareness in his face. ‘Why should you fear that I would be dead?’ He reached out to brush away the tear at the corner of her eye.

  She caught his hand quickly, and forced a laugh. ‘You don’t have to pretend to me that you haven’t some preposterous plan to free Dermot now that you have discovered that Robin and Kathleen have already left Ireland! But there’s no need for you to go to Trim.’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘Did you come all this way just to tell me that?’ She nodded, and he groaned. ‘How did you escape the O’Tooles?’

  ‘I gave them your whiskey.’ Her fingers of their own accord were lacing through his.

  He groaned again. ‘How much?’

  ‘At least two pitchers.’ She giggled suddenly, remembering how the men had looked. ‘It worked beautifully.’

  ‘They’ll be furious!’ He grinned, then his expression grew serious. ‘You shouldn’t have come here. The journey must have been arduous for you.’ He moved her swiftly out of the path of a wagon, and nearer to the High Cross set at the crossroads.

  ‘I’m perfectly well.’ She tilted her head to look up at him. ‘You should be worrying about yourself, not me.’

  He shook his head. ‘You should have stayed at home, because there’s nothing you can do here. If Ormonde should see you ... !’

  ‘Ormonde is here?’ she exclaimed. ‘Never mind me, what if he seesyou?’

  ‘He has seen me,’ he said drily, ‘and he didn’t know me. Neither did you!’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘It is a generous nature you have, Mistress O’More, the way you give to the poor beggars. We’ll have no money to buy horses if you go on giving it away.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You were at the gate? I thought someone was watching me.’

  ‘I thought my eyes and ears were playing tricks on me, because I’ve looked at many a face in the last couple of days. What are you doing here withMaster Upton?’ She was suddenly at a loss whether to tell him about her father and her need to go to England. He might make it more difficult for her if she did, and she had decided that she must leave. ‘He came with a message from Robin,’ she said brightly. ‘He was sorry not to be able to see me before he went to England. Since I was concerned that you might do something foolish, like attempting a rescue at Trim, I asked him to escort me here.’

  ‘I see,’ he said with a touch of humour. ‘Well, you could have stayed at home, because I’m not going to Trim. Dermot is here in Dublin Castle. It’s too late, now that your kinsman has gone, but it seems that Ormonde kept his word. If only it had been a week ago, I wouldn’t be here now. As it is, Dublin’s a place I know. It shouldn’t be too difficult for me to attempt a rescue.’

  She stared at him. ‘Have you considered that, now Sil’s dead, there is not the same need for you to risk being captured?’

  He frowned. ‘Of course there is. I want Dermot free! Besides, now that you’ve tricked the O’Tooles, while it might raise you in their estimation as a worthy wife for me, it means that we can’t go back until we do have Dermot.’

  She bit her lip. ‘There is another way than your endangering your freedom.’

  His mouth set stubbornly. ‘If you’re going to suggest that we exchange you for Dermot, I won’t do it. If Ormonde knew that we were married, he’d probably ship you off to England simply to spite me. I’ll do what I think best.’

  ‘Oh, Niall, won’t you ever listen to me!’ she cried with a touch of asperity. She pulled the king’s ring from her finger. ‘Remember that I saved the king’s life? You helped also, so surely that must count for something. A boon! I will ask him for a boon.’

  He made an incredulous noise. ‘That’s your plan? He won’t grant it.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he?’ she demanded. ‘He’s not a hard man.’

  Niall folded his arms across his chest. ‘He was the justiciar for years! I’ll follow my own plan.’

  She stamped her foot in frustration. ‘It’s because you want to play the hero, and storm the castle! Because Dermot helped you in the past, you have to help him now.’

  ‘That’s right, and losing your temper isn’t going to prevent me from doing it.’ The grey eyes glinted. ‘Surely you can understand that?’

  ‘Ay! But you play a fool’s game,’ she said crossly. She humped her shoulder and turned a little away from him.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me. Show concern for our child, and go and rest.’ He seized her by the shoulders. ‘Please don’t tell Master Upton about any of this.’ She nodded. ‘If all goes well, I’ll call on you tomorrow.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’ she asked in a small voice.

  ‘Then you must go home.’ He kissed her averted cheek, and turning on his heel, left her standing in the middle of the road. She swiftly walked away, her face set.

  ‘You say that you don’t want me to search for Master O’More?’ said Master Upton for the second time.

  ‘That is correct, sir,’ she replied quietly, gazing beyond him to the roses filling the air with their fragrance.

  He stroked his chins. ‘Why is that? I ask myself. And I come back with the answer that perhaps you have already seen your husband.’

  ‘Master Upton,’ she replied coolly, looking straight at him, ‘I have appreciated all the help you have given me since I came to Ireland, but I ask you most earnestly not to interfere in this matter. If you want a reason for my not searching for Niall, believe me when I say that I realise that my father and family need me more than he does at this moment.’

  ‘Wouldn’t listen to you, would he?’ murmured Master Upton.

  ‘Sir,’ she cried indignantly, ‘will you say no more! Tell me, when has Master Larcher arranged for me to sail for Liverpool?’

  ‘Day after tomorrow. There’s a ship sailing then.’ His face was worried. ‘Is there naught I can do for you?’ She half smiled. ‘Just be patient with me, and tell me if you have any more details about my father.’

  ‘I have told you all that I know. You will go to your stepmother, who is staying with his cousin Beatrice in Southwark, so that she can be close to your father.’ She nodded. ‘And my brothers?’

  ‘They are with your stepmother. If she has opportunity, she will rake them to see your father, before ...’ He coughed, and said no more.

  Tears itched Constance’s eyes, but she blinked them back. What was the point of crying? It would not serve Niall or her father. She felt as if a great weight rested on her shoulders. She might never see her father or her husband alive again, and she could not bear the thought that there was not much she could do to help either of them, but pray.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I
T SEEMED to Constance that tomorrow would never come, but at last it dawned. If Niall did achieve that which he had set out to do and came today, she would tell him about going to England. Surely he would understand and not mind too much. He had her manor!

  She went with Master Larcher down Winetavern Street, which ran steeply to the River Liffey, to Merchant’s Quay, where she met the master of the ship she was to sail on. Later, after dinner, she was persuaded to go shopping with one of the daughters of the house, but all the time she fretted in case Niall called while she was out. When she returned, it was to find Master Upton waiting for her.

  He greeted her cheerfully before asking if he could have a private word with her in the garden. She agreed, wondering if what he had to say concerned Niall. With a fast beating heart, she followed him outside and faced him. ‘What is it you have to say, Master Upton?’

  He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands down the sides of his surcote. ‘There’s been an escape from the castle. A prisoner — one named Dermot O’Toole. Yesterday evening it was, and the hue and cry raised immediately, and the gates of the town shut tight.’ He nodded his head several times, a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘And?’ She held her breath, her stare fixed rigidly upon his face.

  ‘A search has been made of part of the town this side of the river — and they started on Oxmantown on the other bank this afternoon. So far, it is rumoured, they have not found the man they’re seeking. It’s likely that they will continue their search here later in the day. No doubt the Earl of Ormonde knows by now who is responsible, but he will not understand why. He knows that your father has an agent here, and once he discovers your kinsman has left for England — Master Larcher is sure to tell him — hewill know why.’

  ‘Do you consider that His Grace will come here himself?’

  ‘It is possible. You must deny any knowledge of Master Niall’s presence in Dublin. Show surprise — horror, even! Rejoice in your kinsman’s escape and — you have a valid reason — tell him that already you are preparing to leave for England because of family matters. Fortunately, you never told the Larchers about your marriage to Master Niall — and I have not mentioned it, either.’ He beamed at her. ‘Now you can leave Ireland, knowing he isn’t dead or even a prisoner.’